


Twins in the Force

by Chrysaora



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Force Bond (Star Wars), M/M, Male Leia Organa, Missing Scene, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Rule 63 Exchange 2019, Surreal, Telepathic Sex, Temporary Sex Change, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-09-24 22:41:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20366284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chrysaora/pseuds/Chrysaora
Summary: When Luke reconnects with the Force, he also reconnects with Leia.





	Twins in the Force

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).

The rapid climb up the Temple Mount has made his pulse race and his heart pound furiously against the inside of his chest. Desperation fills him, and now that he has made a new choice, he does not hesitate. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and slaps his palms down onto the flat surface of the ancient altar—hard_._

The sharp sting of stone against flesh is nothing in comparison to the pain Jedi Master Luke Skywalker feels when, for the first time in many years, the Force starts to flow unobstructed through him once more. He had gone so long without it, had practically forgotten what it felt like to open himself, and like a stomach starved of food or a limb starved of blood, and the renewal, the reconnection, the return to life, oh, oh, ooohhh, it hurts, hurts beyond measure, hurts both in body and in spirit. For an endless, eternal moment in time, he is overwhelmed, drowning in sensation, losing the fight against the undertow, struggling merely to take breath—

_Breathe,_ he reminds himself fiercely. _Just… Breathe._

And then, relief. Blessed relief. A tsunami of uncontrolled feeling reorders itself into a rhythmically pulsing ocean tide with its swells of life, its troughs of death, its endless rippling waves spreading out from the center, from where Luke kneels before the ancient altar, over Ahch-To’s surface and beyond, into space, toward its binary suns and yet further, to other systems.

The dance of life and death in its infinite, exquisite evolutionary forms carries across the vastness of the universe itself, honing in on a single, spacefaring vessel. That vessel is beleaguered by enemy bombardment which it cannot evade, and it is filled with living beings who are, in turn, filled with worry and with hope and with fear, fear most of all for the life of their beloved leader, whom they cannot quite reach, whose mind is blank to their crude technologies but who nonetheless continues to breathe, and breathe, and breathe—

“Leia,” Luke whispers.

***

Unless one is told in advance what to look for, the family resemblance isn’t immediately obvious. It’s how they went for years, as fellows of the good fight, as bosom friends, and as something…more than friends, but without knowing, without even truly suspecting. Only on hindsight did it seem like they must have known all along.

His feelings of guilt are selfish, he knows, obsessively self-centered, and this guilt would consume him utterly were he to allow it. Only Leia persists somehow in the place beyond himself, the bond between them laid down in the Force while they were together in the womb. He can’t see Leia, not really, not with all the vastness of space between them, but at the very same time, he most definitely can. Thus it is that when, for the first time in many years, he sets his mind’s eyes upon his twin, it feels like looking at his own reflection in a mirror.

“I’m sorry,” Luke says.

“I missed you,” Leia says at the exact same moment.

“Leia—” Luke tries again.

“Luke—” So does Leia.

This is hopeless. They fall into each other’s arms and embrace, shaking with helpless laughter.

It’s better without words anyway. This closeness is irresistible, and their bodies cannot help but respond. Leia makes the first move, taking Luke’s face between thick, broad fingers and kissing him. No chaste, fraternal kiss, this—it is hot, heavy, and full to the brim with their lonely years of unmet need. Lips are nipped; tongues joust and dance; and they moan into the kiss as their embrace tightens and their limbs intertwine.

They do not possess the perfection of youth, not even here in this between place. They have their sags and wrinkles and scars. Luke’s belly is more hill than plane these days, and his prosthetic hand has lost its synthskin, so he must be careful where he touches Leia, lest tender flesh get painfully pinched or caught in the durasteel joints. His cock still works, though, and this unaccustomed closeness is making it rise, and rise, and rise—

To meet its twin.

Of the two of them, Leia has always been the more dominant personality, and so it is Leia who takes the lead now, urging Luke down onto his back and parting his thighs. His hole clenches, the tiny starburst of muscle clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing, clenching and releasing as he watches Leia prepare, until that thick length glistens with slick moisture. Their cocks too are virtual twins, with only minute differences in shape, in the delicate, blue-green traceries of veins beneath pale, silken flesh and in the rosy shade of the glans once the foreskin has slipped back.

They do not need their hands. Luke simply lifts his hips as Leia falls forward onto him, chest to chest, penetrating him with a single, swift stroke, tip to base, scrotum crushed tight against his backside. They do not need to wait to adjust either; they are closer than brothers, closer even than lovers here, and Leia begins to thrust immediately.

They couple frantically, hard and fast, like they would merge themselves into a single being if they could, like Leia would wish to live inside Luke forevermore, and Luke’s thoughts are scoured clean and blank with white-hot pleasure. He squeezes his eyes shut, and his heels dig into the small of Leia’s back, and his fingers dig into Leia’s shoulders, and he may be kissing Leia’s face with sloppy, wet smooches, but he’s honestly not sure anymore. All he really, really feels is the stretch, and the friction, and the unerring double strikes of each inward and outward pass to his prostate gland, and, oh, oh, ooohhh, if Leia touches his cock, he knows he will come, right here and now, he knows he will come—

Leia seizes his cock and pumps once, twice—

Luke’s eyes fly open as his muscles lock and he begins to ejaculate, as the cock buried inside of him begins to throb and spill as well. They cry out together in purest ecstasy, as they grind desperately into each other, wanting to be closer, closer, _closer_, and Luke’s vision is so blurred with joyful tears that, for an endless, eternal moment, he sees nothing when he looks up at Leia, nothing at all, but then he shakes his head and blinks his eyes clear, and he inhales deeply and sees, not a reflection of himself in his twin that was borne of willful self-absorption, of blind egotism, no, not anymore, he sees—_he truly sees_—

***

In her med-stabilization pod, deep in a coma, Leia breathes. She just… Breathes.

Then, a gasp, and she sees.

“Luke,” Leia whispers.

END


End file.
